


the stars gazing back

by templemarker



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The men speak in awe of her beauty, the perfect lines of her visible beneath her gown, the sweet moue of her lips, the joy of her voice speaking to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the stars gazing back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AviaTantellaScott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AviaTantellaScott/gifts).



> AviaTantellScott, you had so many awesome thoughts for Narnia stories that it was hard to pick even one, but I prevailed. My best wishes and I hope you enjoy.

The men are right in this: She is incredibly beautiful. 

The men speak in awe of her beauty, the perfect lines of her visible beneath her gown, the sweet moue of her lips, the joy of her voice speaking to them. 

The men are men, and seem to be stunned by her mere presence. 

Lucy is not a man, something that has become indelibly clear to her during her adventure with the Dawn Treader. She had never particularly had cause to notice before; boys were Peter, Edmund, their rugby mates and fellows in her arts club. They were panting after Susan. Men were those that Father worked with, who Mother treated at her clinic. She wasn't particularly interested in boys, one way or another, and men barely registered notice. 

But here she was, months into a journey surrounded by men. Even old Eustace had manned up in the end of it, learning how to move and tie rope and generally be helpful under the patient tutelage of the midshipman. 

It was strange to see a female face again. Other than her own. Or Susan's, in the darkly reflecting picture inside that dreadful spellbook. Lucy wondered, suddenly, what Susan would have been like if she'd been on this journey instead of Lucy. Lucy remembered Susan from Before, when Susan was the age she was now; she wore her beauty like a cloak, and as she was rightfully known as Gentle, she gathered one and all into herself and made them feel beautiful too. 

Funny, that. Lucy hadn't thought about it until now, but she did actually _know_ what she would look like in a few years, past this awkward stage of in-between. She was never a vain Queen of Narnia, nor a prideful one. In fact, Queen Lucy had never particularly bothered with how she looked: there was far to much to _do_ in Narnia to worry about whether or not she was pretty. 

Liliandil was finally given an introduction (after far too long a time, Lucy thought pointedly) and it was easy to nod back, her face smoothing into courteous lines for welcoming a foreign dignitary. The woman glowed, radiating an inner light and a placidity that was unlike peace, but seemed as that feeling of encountering something larger than yourself. Like standing at Cauldron Pool at midsummer, the air crisp even under the bright swathe of the sun. 

There wasn't much to say, really, and little time to say it; there was a way to free the sleeping Lords from their long rest, and Caspian was ever-eager to push on further, well beyond the Beginning of the End of the World and this island. 

She caught sight of Caspian addressing the star's daughter, something warm in his eyes that pushed against her cold, pure glow. It plucked at something inside of her, a longing. Perhaps a loss. Caspian was a very fine man, though still young and foolish. Here in Narnia, Lucy couldn't help but think of things as if she were Queen Lucy again. And she knew she wouldn't be staying, knew that she and Edmund and Eustace would return to England once more at the end of this voyage. But she was still young, even if her heart felt older, and he was an easy thing to want. It was a small cut, one that would heal quick and be forgotten. 

She watched Liliandil smile at Caspian's overtures and was reminded again of Susan, who fielded calls and overtures from boys in the town and a few at the university Father taught at. Susan turned most of them down, but for a few she pinned her hair up and wore Mother's pearls, the bright red streak across her lips vivid against her pale skin. Lucy had been growing envious of her even at the same time she was put off by the dramatics of it all. Lucy had faced herself at the Island of the Dufflepuds, had looked into her own heart and forgave herself. They were not the same person, her and Susan, and it was naïve to compare herself against her sister when Lucy fought against herself. 

This hadn't happened Before. Maybe Lucy needed to find something to _do_. 

As they waited for the Stone Table to lay its feast to them much later that night (and my, how particularly uncomfortable it was to eat in happy company at the table on which Aslan had laid his life; Lucy at a few crackers but found she was not especially hungry) she found at once that she was standing near Liliandil, who was looking at her as if waiting for a moment to speak. Lucy took it upon herself to start a conversation. Liliandil seemed fascinated by the stories Lucy told of their journey, and a little bit from Before, and it was soon that Lucy noticed that the star's daughter was glowing brighter. Her cool blue moved to a warmer hue, matching the widening smile and bells of laughter from Liliandil as Lucy told the story of Mr Tumnus and the Queen's Ledger. 

She tilted her head and asked why Liliandil shone brighter. 

The woman smiled again, and said, "It is always with us stars, that our light grows and grows when we are happy. And you, Queen Lucy of the Narnia that Came Before, are a joy indeed."

Lucy blushed a little, both at the comment and the polite, correct use of her title. "I thank you, my lady star. Does that only happen when you have fallen? Or do the stars in the night sky twinkle when they are light-hearted?"

Liliandil smiled, and there was a touch of sadness to it; her glow faded slightly. "So my father tells me," she said wistfully, "but for myself I do not know. Though I am made of star-stuff and sing the song to wake the Sun, I know only of the Great Dance, and not the Dance itself; they joy of stars is known to me only through my father Ramandu. I do not know of other Stars. Nor have a met another woman before you," she said, tentatively extending her arm out for Lucy to take. 

"Oh my," said Lucy, breathless at the revelation. In the shine of Liliandil's body she felt all thoughts of Before and England and the end of their journey escape her. She curled her hand around Liliandil's arm and let herself be guided to the Stone Table. "I pity that we have so little time, as there is so much to say!"

Liliandil laughed again, her mien full of summerly warmth again. "The night is young," she said, "and so are we. There is time, and time--tell me of yourself. I want to know everything."

Lucy felt a flutter in her own heart and thought that, were she a Star, she'd be shining bright enough to fill all the dark corners of the room. Let leave the men to witness the beauty of the star's daughter. Lucy looked deeper, and found a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> “A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question.”   
> ― Neil Gaiman, Stardust


End file.
